


A Life in A Day

by honeybee_motorcyles



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brain Damage, Brain Injury, Caretaker John Watson, Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Injured Sherlock, Other, Permanent Injury, Regression, Sherlock Whump, Sherlock has a mind of child after the fall, Sick Sherlock, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27255529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybee_motorcyles/pseuds/honeybee_motorcyles
Summary: Summary: The fall went wrong which left Sherlock with a mental age of a young toddler approximately 18 months old.  He could only remember Mycroft and John. There was nothing the doctors could do.  Two years later, this is how John and Sherlock’s new life is in America.Thanks to ilikestopwatches for the beta.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	A Life in A Day

John’s alarm woke him at quarter to seven. Sherlock was still asleep in the next room. He could see that from the monitor he and Mycroft had installed. John went to drink coffee first and he took a bath. By the time he finished his bath, it was eight thirty and he needed to wake Sherlock up. Sherlock had OT/PT and speech today. 

He went to Sherlock’s room. Sherlock was wide awake playing with his toy dog and bee. “Hello, matey?” John said, removing the railing of Sherlock’s bed.

Sherlock whimpered. John knew that whimper. “Here.” John handed Sherlock his ‘special needs’ cup with chocolate drink. Because of his motor skills, he couldn’t handle a regular cup. He aided Sherlock up with one hand. Sherlock’s gross motor skills had improved since the incident two years ago; he could now walk with assistance. 

He sat Sherlock at the tub and watched as Sherlock played with his toys. Thinking about two years ago, Mycroft had informed John that Sherlock jumped for them and would he please take Sherlock to San Francisco because of the threats to their lives.

At first he wasn’t sure because the doctors had just informed them that what they could see is what they would get and that if he improved he would never be the same again. However, here he was being the full time carer of his best friend. 

“Finish,” John said, lifting Sherlock from the tub. “Miss Allysa is coming for OT today,” he informed Sherlock. John put him down on a bath mat. He couldn’t carry Sherlock up because despite Sherlock losing a lot of body mass he was still an adult. 

He dressed Sherlock in a polo, pull up nappy and shorts. Sherlock wore a nappy for he couldn’t control his bladder due to the brain injury. “All done, time to eat.” He held Sherlock’s hand for assistance and led him to his chair. 

Sherlock sat on the chair. Due to the brain injury he had sustained, he lost much of his core strength so John had made a strap for him. “Here you go, matey,” John placed pancakes on Sherlock’s plate. 

Half way through the meal the doorbell rang. “Miss Allysa is here.” Sherlock grinned; she was his favourite. 

John opened the door to their house. “Hello, Allysa,” he said looking at her. “Sherlock has been waiting.”

John and Allysa helped Sherlock into his wheelchair. John wheeled him to the living room. 

{———————}

Allysa Johnson had been Sherlock’s therapist since he got to San Francisco. She had helped Sherlock relearn to finger feed himself. The next goal for her patient was to pick up small items and put them in a container. 

She put big plastic bids on his wheelchair tray and a small container on the other end. 

“Lock, buddy?” She held Sherlock’s gaze. “You are going to pick this up and put it here.” She demonstrated by picking up a bid and putting it inside. 

Sherlock looked at her blankly. She assisted Sherlock’s hand to grab the buttons and together they placed the buttons into the container. Sherlock smiled innocently. “Nice job, Lock.”

She had a ball from Sherlock’s stash and handed him the ball. “Okay, now that we’re done with the buttons, you are going to play catch with me.” 

Again, Sherlock's face was blank; he didn’t understand what he was saying. His receptive language was like a six month old. She showed him and then he understood. He was now laughing at the game. He had caught and thrown the ball. 

At around ten-thirty, Sherlock’s PT came. Joshua Sy, a man in his late thirties. John was there at the door. “How was he?” Josh asked.

“He was doing alright,” John answered. John led Joshua to the living room. They moved Sherlock from his chair to the floor. 

“John, Sherlock had an accident,” she said. She could see and smell the poo from his diaper. 

“All right, I’ll change him.” He guided up and brought him to his bedroom.

She and Josh waited. “So, how was your weekend?” 

Josh laughed. “I had a shift at the hospital earlier,” he said. “Yours?”

They talked about their weekend while John helped Sherlock. “Here we go.”

John and Joshua helped Sherlock down. Sherlock’s legs were bent in an unnatural place due to not being used often. “Okay, one, two….” When Allysa and Joshua bent and flexed Sherlock’s leg, the man whimpered. “Oh, poor buddy, it’s okay,” she cooed. 

After the warm up, they stood Sherlock in the standing frame. Shape sorting was one of Sherlock’s favourite activities so they started with that first. “Okay, almost done,” she said as Sherlock stacked the third shape.

After standing on the frame for thirty minutes, they sat him down in his wheelchair for feeding therapy. They handed Sherlock foods his palate could tolerate and gave food which he couldn’t.

——————————————  
John had known three Sherlocks since almost two years ago. The first Sherlock was Sherlock on a good day. Sherlock on a good day was a toddler of about two. Sherlock on an okay day (which he was most often ) was about eighteen months. Sherlock on a bad day was even worse. He couldn’t do much of anything; he would cling to John. During bad days they would sit on the swing all day and John would rock him.

Today was an okay day, thank the heavens. He could at least do therapy.They would go for a bike ride, if the weather permitted. 

Sherlock's speech and music therapist was waiting for his two others to finish Sherlock’s session. After his speech and music therapy, he and Sherlock would go out. 

John and Mycroft had an argument earlier this year regarding Sherlock’s therapies. It had been two years and Mycroft was still hoping that Sherlock could regain his functioning. John wanted to stop every but one therapy, his OT. Mycroft had said no, it was his money and his brother. John just shrugged.

It was nearing two in the afternoon, when Sherlock finished speech. “Okay, mate. Let’s go on a bike ride.” Sherlock smiled, pleased. He carried Sherlock from his wheelchair into his buggy, a special buggy from Mycroft. It was lightweight and perfect on bike rides and walks.

He gave Sherlock a toy, a colourful rattle. “Ready?” he asked him as he pulled him off their driveway. Sherlock made a happy noise. 

They left their house. John biked them around the neighbourhood. An hour later, Sherlock made a low keening noise from the trailer that meant he was wet. He moved Sherlock from the buggy through to the living room’s padded mat. “Sherlock, wait.” He went to Sherlock’s room and got things for him.

While changing Sherlock’s adult nappy, he hummed Mary Had A Little Lamb. “All right, love,” he cooed while carrying Sherlock to the sofa. He sat Sherlock up and snuggled next to him. 

John turned on Netflix and saw an old Bond film and played it. 

People that knew them before would ask, especially in the early days, whether or not he missed the life he led with Sherlock. He would shake his head no. It wasn’t glamorous. Changing diapers, feeding and bathing him was hard. Seeing him struggle through a task most toddlers could do was a devastating sight but Sherlock had always been his life since the moment Mike Stanford introduced them. 

He turned to Sherlock. Sherlock’s eyes were unfocused like always. “I love you, so much,” John said, kissing his forehead, like a father to his young son. He had never loved anyone like he loved him.

It was early evening when John decided to stand up and get food for the two of them. However, Sherlock was still asleep in his arms. He decided on takeaway instead. He dialled Pizza Hut. Sherlock loved pizza and John could have their pasta. 

Sherlock woke up when the food arrived. John carried and wheeled Sherlock to the dinner table. “Eat, and we will watch the Lion King.” Sherlock smiled and ate the small pizza. 

John put Sherlock’s meds in his cup. “Drink your coke, dear.” After they ate, John took Sherlock for his night time bath.

John took Sherlock to his bedroom to watch the movie. However, Sherlock fell asleep halfway through. “Good night, love,” John said and kissed Sherlock’s forehead. 

He would gladly do this all over again tomorrow. 

The end


End file.
